I've Got Time and No One Near
by NessaNebula
Summary: Who would have thought Dolores Umbridge would bridge the gap between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy? An olive branch is extended, and their relationship begins anew.
1. Nothing but a Memory

_**I've Got Time and No One Near**_

by **NessaNebula**

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing from Harry Potter, all credit goes to J.K. Rowling.

 **PLEASE READ BEFORE STARTING THE STORY!**

Almost all of my ideas come to me as I'm listening to music, so the bulk of the story is heavily influenced by certain songs. For each chapter, I'm going to leave the names and artists of the songs that most inspired the writing in that particular chapter. I would much appreciate if you listened to them prior to, during and/or after you read the chapter. It's not necessary, but I think it lends a certain feel to the chapter that makes it more meaningful, and gives you an idea of my thought process.

The songs for this chapter are:

 **Little Games** by **The Colourist**

 **Harlem** by **New Politics**

 **Lights** by **Wolfgun**

This is my first ever fanfic! I'm a bit nervous, but I think it's going to come along swimmingly.

Please, please PLEASE review! Constructive criticism will be welcomed with open arms. I only want to improve from this point on. CC and ideas are very welcome, even if you just want a chat shoot me a PM! I would love to talk with some other HP writers :) and now for the story! Please enjoy! - **NessaNebula**

 **Red.**

Harry Potter was slowly exiting Dolores' Umbridge's office, cradling his bleeding hand, and all he could see was red. If Harry had held dislike for the woman before, it had transformed into a seething hatred now.

Harry had to bite his lip to contain the stream of foul names he was longing to turn around and call Umbridge. He could feel her gratified, piggy eyes boring into the back of his head, and he knew he could not give her the satisfaction of letting his composure slip.

He took a deep breath and moved to close the door behind him, when Umbridge's heavily sugared tones rang out behind him.

"I will see you in my office tomorrow at 6 p.m., Mr. Potter, for your next detention. Do be punctual, and have a good evening."

Harry's teeth gripped his bottom lip hard enough to break the skin, and he faintly registered the coppery tang of blood as he breathed, "Yes, Professor Umbridge."

His self control hanging on by a thread, he quickly shut the door, the mewing of the technicolor kittens ceasing at once as the lock clicked, and began trudging towards Gryffindor Tower.

His mind was blank for most of the journey, and it was not until he came to a stop in front of the Fat Lady that he realized he did not know what to tell Ron and Hermione of his evening. The wound was still bleeding too freely to go unnoticed, and he couldn't exactly keep his hand stowed inside his robes the whole night. He may fool Ron, but Hermione was too perceptive, and Harry too exhausted to be more inventive at the moment.

He tried to wrap his shaking hand in his robes and staunch the blood flow, but a gasp left his lips when the rough fabric brushed his raw skin. Abandoning that idea and cursing the pants off Umbridge, he took a deep breath, and after a mumbled "Finto Duri", did a clumsy, one-handed crawl through the portrait hole.

"Harry!"

Harry bit back a groan of exhaustion and annoyance as Ron and Hermione beckoned him over to the circle of overstuffed armchairs they were occupying. He navigated a crowd of chattering first years and sidestepped George Weasley as he brandished a fake wand at him. He forced a quick laugh as it gave a squawk and turned into a floppy rubber chicken. With a heavy sigh, he collapsed into the chair next to Ron and looked up to meet their expectant gazes.

"So? How was detention? What did the old toad make you do, Harry?" Ron managed around a mouthful of chocolate frog, a few bits spraying out on his mostly blank Potions essay. Harry and Hermione shared a grimace, unnoticed by Ron.

"Uh," Harry started, trying to think fast, but Hermione gasped and leaned towards him.

"Harry, your hand is bleeding! What did you do?" She reached for him, but he hastily shoved his hand under his leg and waved her off. She slowly retreated, her expression bemused.

"Harry? What happened?" Ron had finally swallowed the frog and was looking at him with concern.

"Nothing, just...ah…" Exhaustion was tugging at his psyche, and as he did not possess an affinity for coming up with believable excuses at the drop of a hat, he decided to tell them the truth.

"Umbridge," he muttered, reluctantly extending his hand to Ron and Hermione, "made me do lines."

He closed his eyes as he felt Hermione's cool fingers take his hand, and opened them to see twin expressions of mingled horror and disgust on his friends' faces.

" That evil hag! What on earth…"

Hermione's eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, and Ron, while looking pale and slightly queasy, withdrew a rather worn handkerchief from the breast pocket of his robes. He gently pressed it to the weeping would and jumped when Harry hissed and abruptly yanked his hand away. Harry could feel wetness pricking the corners of his own eyes against his will.

"Sorry," Harry said, through gritted teeth. " It hurts really bad. She...made me write lines with my own blood. I think the cut is pretty deep."

Hermione reached for his hand again, and after a pause, he gently placed it in both of hers.

"Obviously we can stop the bleeding with a bandage, but that isn't going to clean the wound and set it to healing. Harry, you should go to Madam Pom-, oh fine," she huffed, as Harry vehemently shook his head. "We need to get it treated, though. The only remedy I can think of off the top of my head is mertlap essence."

"Right, where can I find mertlap essence?"

Hermione pursed her lips, looking thoughtful, but to their joint surprise, Ron answered.

"Prefect's bathroom! Purple tap, straight across from the portrait of the giggly mermaid."

Ron beamed as the other two goggled slightly at him.

"Very specific, Ronald," Hermione said, hiding a smirk.

"It keeps the zits away," Ron muttered.

Harry flexed his fingers, stiff from keeping his hand held aloft.

"That's good and all, but I'm not a prefect," Harry began, but Ron cut him off, the tips of his ears still tinged pink.

"Mate, since when have you cared about the rules? The password is Vadalamo, and it's by the dungeons, behind that painting of the Giant Squid. Go soak your hand and we'll figure out what to do with Umbridge."

Harry opened his mouth to tell them Umbridge wasn't their problem to solve, but Hermione shooed him away, and with a murmured thanks, he discreetly fished his Invisibility Cloak out of his messenger bag, stuffed it inside his robes, and headed back out.

After a glance down the corridor, he pulled out the cloak and shook it out, the fabric casting a shimmer as he ducked under it. He headed towards the dungeons, his tired brain slowly supplying him the directions from his use of the bathroom the previous year.

The halls were mostly deserted. Dinner was long over and curfew not far off. He passed a couple of young Hufflepuffs, who were giggling over some of the Weasley twins' merchandise. He heard a Decoy Detonator whizzing on the floor after him, and quickly descended a sluggishly revolving staircase, giving a sigh of relief when the painting of the Giant Squid loomed at the end of the corridor.

To his dismay, Professor Snape billowed around the corner, making a beeline straight for him. He closed his eyes and pressed himself flat against the wall, ignoring the indignant squawk from the portrait he was slightly squashing. Snape strode past him, and Harry could see a muscle working in his jaw. He looked annoyed, but when had Harry ever seen him wearing a pleasant expression? The git always looked as if he'd just been goosed by a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

Harry let out an involuntary snort, and then froze as Snape abruptly turned on his heel and stared at the spot where Harry stood, unseen.

Harry felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple as Snape approached, but he was looking through Harry at the picture he was leaning on. Harry could hear the inhabitants shouting at the invisible force pressing on them, but it quickly became background noise as Snape leaned towards him, his eyes narrowing, his lips parting…

"Severus!"

Snape jerked upright and looked to the end of the corridor Harry had entered from. Harry felt mingled relief and horror as Dolores Umbridge approached, lips stretched in a false smile.

"Severus, I requested your presence in my office after my detention with the Potter boy ended. You are fifteen minutes late."

Snape's eyes were fixed on Umbridge's pallid face. Harry noticed the muscle in the man's cheek had begun to twitch with even more fervor.

"Yes, Dolores, my apologies. I'm afraid I was held up-"

"Yes, well, do come along then," Umbridge overrode him, turning on the spot and moving back down the corridor, not sparing a glance to see if Snape was following.

Snape's face was blotchy with anger at the interruption. He took a final, lingering glance at the spot Harry was rooted to, with eyes too perceptive for Harry's liking, and set off down the hall after the pink blob.

Harry's eyes stayed glued to the retreating figures, and he let out a quavering breath as the hem of Snape's dark robes whipped around the corner. He peeled himself off the wall and looked at the painting he had been flattening. The scene looked upon a round table with several knights situated around it. They looked to have been enjoying a feast before Harry's arrival, but now there were chairs upturned and the knights were on their feet, shouting and shaking their fists. One of them brandished a turkey leg at him.

With a careful look down both ends of the corridor, Harry made his way to the portrait of the Giant Squid, whose tentacles waved at him as he approached.

"Vadalamo," he whispered, and the waving tentacles disappeared as the painting transfigured into a door. Harry gripped the cool, brassy handle and pulled it, the door smoothly sliding open to reveal a dark, slightly steamy hall.

Harry moved into the hallway, the door silently swinging shut behind him. The hallway was short, and he made quick work of it, emerging into a large room with vaulted ceilings. Stretching out in front of him was the enormous bath that had reminded him of an Olympic swimming pool on his last trip here. He realized that the awe of the huge pool had kept him from taking in the other amenities the bathroom offered. There were jacuzzi-esque baths that were sized to fit two, four and more occupants. Shelves lined every inch of the walls, stocked with plush towels and neatly folded bathrobes.

An impatient throb in his hand made him start, and he remembered his purpose for seeking out the room. He approached the edge of the pool, and gently slipped the cloak off. He prodded a bottle green tap, and soapy water began to gush into the tub at once, the heat rising and steaming his glasses.

Harry disrobed and folded his clothes, placing his glasses and cloak on top of the pile. The bath had filled quickly, and he slipped in, the water already level with his armpits. He let out a shaky groan as the warm water rocked gently against him, and he could feel the knots in his back protesting before relaxing under the hot water, the tension from his evening with Umbridge melting away.

After submerging and shaking his soaked hair out of his eyes, he spotted the purple tap parallel to the excitable mermaid. One quick breaststroke later, he was turning the spiral tap and a creamy, pale yellow liquid was flowing out. He ran the tap until the mertlap essence had been diluted by the foamy bath water, and the tub was filled with the stuff, pale as sunshine on a cold winter's day. He gingerly lowered the wound into the water, and sighed as the throbbing ebbed away and the skin felt pleasantly tingly.

Harry raised his hand from the water and examined it. The caked blood had fallen away with the aid of the mertlap, and the wound seemed clean, the skin slowly knitting back together. 'Only to be sliced back open tomorrow,' Harry thought, a wave of bitterness and hatred washing over him. He didn't know how, but he was going to make Umbridge pay.

Harry closed his eyes, and replaced his hand under the tide. He sank down until the water came to just below his nose, and his mind became blissfully blank.

A torrent of water suddenly crashed over his head, and he spluttered and choked on the bubbles he'd inhaled. He hastily rubbed his eyes and opened them to see Draco Malfoy, reclining on the other side of the pool, not a single strand of platinum hair out of place. He examined the floundering Harry, looking quite unruffled.

"Malfoy, what the hell was that for!" Harry swore, his throat burning from the soap he'd gulped down.

"It wasn't me," Malfoy said, stretching his arms out on either side of him along the tile. "Moaning Myrtle was getting her fill of a naked Boy Who Lived, if you must know. I scared her off."

"Oh." Harry felt quite squirmy knowing that the teenage ghost had been spying on him. His hands unconsciously moved to cover himself, but he doubted the other boy could see anything considering the distance between them. "I didn't know Myrtle was into voyeurism. Kinky."

To his surprise, the blond teenage laughed, a deep but short burst that echoed off the high ceiling. Harry watched the pale lips part, revealing white teeth. He was feeling thoroughly out of sorts, unsure of how himself and Draco Malfoy had come to be in the same room, alone...in a bathtub to boot. How had they not cursed each other to bits yet?

The last echoes of Malfoy's laughter faded away, and Harry became aware of Malfoy's silvery eyes fixed on him. Unwavering.

"Malfoy," Harry muttered, scrubbing the back of his neck. Why the hell was the blond staring at him like that?

"Why are you here?" Malfoy said abruptly. "You realize this bathroom is for prefects only."

Harry tensed, his fingers unconsciously curling into fists.

"It's none of your business, Malfoy. What are you going to do? Report me?" Harry gave a laugh that was more shaky, not quite the scathing tone he was hoping for. He shut his trap as the corner of Malfoy's mouth quirked.

"No, Potter. I'm not going to report you. I really don't give a damn. Just curious."

Malfoy suddenly swam towards him, and Harry's fingers, which had started to relax, curled back so rapidly he could feel his wound re-opening.

Malfoy glanced at him dismissively, and Harry had the feeling the blond knew exactly what had just flitted through his mind. Harry's tension only mounted as a pale hand reached for him. He raised his fist.

"Jesus Christ, Potter," Malfoy looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. He reached over Harry's shoulder, and with a twist of his slender fingers, brought a tap behind Harry's back to life. Harry blinked, fist still suspended in midair, feeling like a fool.

"Sorry," Harry managed, rubbing his eyes. He could vaguely make out the throbbing of his hand returning at full force.

"What's that?"

Harry's eyes popped open as he felt fingers curl around his wrist, and before he could react, Malfoy was examining the back of his hand, eyes narrowed to make out the words through the steam.

"Who did this, Potter? 'I must not tell lies'. What the hell?"

Harry snatched his hand back and swam a few feet away, his eyes on Malfoy, who didn't look surprised at Harry's reaction.

"Why do you care? What are you playing at?"

"I don't know what you mean," Malfoy said, without missing a beat.

"Why are you talking to me like this? Why haven't you cursed me, or something?"

Malfoy considered him for a moment. He had a funny look on his face. It almost looked like pity.

"Potter," he said quietly, " are we going to fight like school children forever? I'm tired of the rivalry. Can you honestly tell me you enjoy it?"

Harry, who hadn't been expecting this response, gaped at Malfoy. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "But you're Malfoy, you're evil."

Harry expected a darkness to pass over Malfoy's face, for Malfoy to storm away, the iridescent bubbles from the tap Malfoy had turned flying every which way. He had expected his words to coax Malfoy's signature sneer out. Instead, for the second time that evening, Malfoy's laugh rang out, deep and carefree. Despite himself, Harry felt his lips twitch.

"Potter," Malfoy said, the traces of his laughter dissipating but a smile lingering on his face. "You're impossible. Hold up a moment."

Harry watched as Malfoy waded through the water to his own pile of clothing, the bubbles dancing happily as the surface of the water rippled. Malfoy reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. Harry gave a start, but with a murmur, an object shot from Malfoy's wand tip and he snatched it from the air. He swam back towards Harry and came to a halt a couple feet in front of him. With a hint of mischief in his eyes, he brought the object out from behind his back, and waved a small white flag before Harry's disbelieving eyes.

"What do you say, Potter? Would you like to make a truce with me?"

"You're off your rocker," Harry muttered, as the flag continued to dance in from of his nose.

"No more fighting. No cursing my friends and I'll leave off yours, too."

Harry didn't say anything. The silence stretched for several minutes, until Malfoy shook the flag so violently at him the tip caught him in the eye.

"Sorry! Sorry, Potter," drawled Malfoy, not sounding apologetic in the slightest as Harry gasped and covered his eye, a string of curses flying from his lips.

"Fine, fine! Just let me keep my other eye, will you?"

Smiling broadly, Malfoy stuck out his hand, and Harry begrudgingly shook it, wondering what the hell he'd just agreed to.


	2. Everything Was White

_**I've Got Time and No One Near**_

By **NessaNebula**

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing from Harry Potter, all credit goes to J.K. Rowling.

Hello everyone! Thank for so much for the favorites, follows and reviews. I appreciate them greatly :) Here is chapter two of I've Got Time and No One Near.

The songs for this chapter are:

 **My Girlfriend's Boyfriend** by **herspaceholiday**

 **Now** by **Joywave**

 **Everything was white.**

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger sat in a companionable silence, gazing into the crackling flames of the fireplace that warmed Gryffindor Tower. Their homework lay strewn across the table before them, long forgotten, though this was more likely to pose a problem for Ron than Hermione. Harry had bade them goodbye and departed for the prefect's bathroom a half hour prior, and they had dismissed their essays in favor of a heated dispute over how best to deal with Umbridge.

Hermione proposed going straight to the Headmaster while Harry was preoccupied in the bathroom, arguing that as Harry seemed unwilling to approach Madam Pomfrey with his predicament, it was doubtful he would confide in Dumbledore, what with the man's obvious distance from Harry the past few months. While Ron was not adverse to the idea, he expressed much more eagerness at his plan, which amounted to little more than unleashing the Unforgivable Curses on Umbridge ("C'mon, 'Mione, if anyone deserves them it's her!"). Ron's suggestion was hastily discarded as Hermione's glower threatened to burn a hole in his forehead.

Their comfortable silence was broken as a figure clambered noisily through the portrait hole, and they looked up to see Harry, whose hair was slightly drippy and expression disgruntled. He dropped into the empty chair next to Ron, shrugging his bag off and offering a distracted smile to his friends.

"Harry!" Hermione said tentatively, "how is your hand? Did the mertlap essence help at all?"

"Yeah," Harry said, voice slightly monotonous from his fatigue, "yeah, it did. Take a look." He extended his hand towards the pair, and Hermione took it, her thumb brushing over the reddened skin where, earlier that evening, the words 'I must not tell lies' had shone angrily through Harry's own blood.

"Harry," Hermione began, "we've been thinking-"

"Wait a moment," Harry interrupted, "you aren't going to believe what happened in the bathroom." Over the next five minutes, Harry recounted everything Malfoy had said and done (for reasons unbeknownst to himself, he left out the bit about the flag), and by the time he finished and sank back into his chair, Ron's jaw was hanging open and Hermione's eyebrows had risen so high they were almost one with her hairline.

"Well?" Harry said loudly, and when Ron's gormless expression didn't falter, he snapped his fingers briskly under Ron's nose.

"Harry, don't tell me you agreed to that?" Hermione look worried. "When has Malfoy ever proven himself trustworthy?"

At this, Ron's expression morphed from shock to outrage.

"Agreed? As if! Mate, tell us you hexed the git to Kingdom Come."

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and imitated quite admirably Ron's face from the moment prior.

"Well," Harry said meekly.

"HARRY!" Ron and Hermione chorused, and it would have been comical if their faces hadn't been so grim.

"Hermione, he's right," Harry said hastily, hoping Hermione's logical side would perk up on his behalf. " We should stop the childish rivalry, we can't fight like kids forever...y'know," he finished lamely, realizing rather belatedly he was repeating Malfoy's words.

"Mate," Ron said, undisguised exasperation in his voice, "Malfoy is bad news. I don't know what the snake told you to make you this confused-"

"I've told you everything he told me," Harry said crossly, feeling a slight flush creeping up his neck. The longer his friends berated him, the more his embarrassment grew. They were right; he had been a fool for taking Malfoy's words at face value.

"What he told you was utter bollocks," Ron snapped. "Malfoy's been nothing but trouble since we met him four years ago. No one changes that quickly, especially not him.

Harry looked at Hermione, hoping she might come to his defense, and slumped against his chair in defeat when she simply looked at him, her expression unyielding.

"He's right, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "I think you should keep your distance from Malfoy. Don't listen to him, he's just trying to rile you up."

"How, Hermione, is asking to be friends supposed to rile me up?" Harry asked, his eyelids beginning to droop. The adrenaline from his strange encounter with Draco Malfoy was evaporating, and the exhaustion from earlier returning quite rapidly.

"Well, I just mean," Hermione began, but Ron placed a hand on her arm, and she fell silent, looking at him in surprise.

"Harry," Ron said, his voice more gentle than before, "we've been by your side since first year, and we've seen all the nasty stuff Malfoy's capable of, just as well as you have. I don't know what he's playing at, trying to strike up a truce with you...but Hermione's right, mate. Leave him alone."

The trio sat in silence for several moments. Ron had given Hermione's arm a squeeze before settling back in his own chair, pointedly ignoring the baffled looks the other two had given him.

"Yeah," Harry said at last. "You're both right. I think I was just...I dunno, a bit out of it when Malfoy approached me. I just need some sleep."

Ron and Hermione nodded eagerly, both visibly relaxing as it seemed Harry had finally seen reason. Harry stooped and opened his bag to place the Invisibility Cloak inside, and gave a slight start when he saw the small white flag, nestled against a roll of parchment. Despite the conversation he'd just had with his friends, the evening spent with Malfoy had taken on a dreamlike quality in his mind. He thumbed the sleek wood that the small square of cloth was fastened to, and then placed the cloak over it. He bade his friends good night, and set off for his four poster bed, hoping that after a good night's sleep, the peculiar events of the day would prove to be no more than a strange dream.

 _ **break**_

As the first hints of dawn broke over the castle grounds, and birds twittered and took flight, Harry lay bleary-eyed in his bed, the last vestiges of sleep disappearing as his dorm mates began to stir. His sleep had been fitful, his wish to wake up to a clean slate unfulfilled. The problems of yesterday remained, no less confusing. Umbridge, Draco Malfoy... what was he to do about either of them? He hadn't the faintest inkling of how to handle the old toad, but Malfoy shouldn't present too much of a problem. No, not at all, really. Harry sat up in bed, feeling slightly heartened.

Harry Potter had faced Voldemort, a basilisk, dementors, Voldemort again...and he thought he couldn't cope with _Draco Malfoy_? His brain must have been in a fog last night, making him blow everything out of proportion. All he had to do was ignore the blond. So simple.

'There,' Harry thought, growing more cheerful. 'Malfoy's taken care of. Now Umbridge.'

His mind became blank. He wasn't sure what he could possibly do to make sure the professor was dealt retribution. He didn't feel comfortable confiding in Dumbledore at the moment. He had thought the Headmaster was partial to him, enjoyed his company. Dumbledore's slightly cold disposition towards him as of late made him wonder if he was mistaken.

Harry stared aimlessly, his cheerfulness waning. He could hear his friends getting ready for the day, talking excitedly of the weekend. Hoping their enthusiasm would rub off on him sometime today, he drew back the curtains of his four poster, feeling cold about the day's prospects despite the sunlight flooding the dorm.

 _ **break**_

"Harry," Hermione said, a determined edge to her voice, "we really think you ought to talk to Dumbledore about what Umbridge has done to you. It's completely unethical, probably illegal-"

"Hermione, no."

"But Harry-"

"No."

Hermione pursed her lips but fell silent. The trio sat in the Great Hall enjoying breakfast, and Hermione had attempted for the second time that morning to persuade Harry to seek the Headmaster's help. Harry had barely entered the common room earlier when she had staged her first, undoubtedly of many, attacks on him. When Harry had rebuffed her, she had appealed to Ron, who had turned a deaf ear to the proceedings.

Ignoring Hermione's glare, he poked at his eggs, letting his gaze wonder over the hall. Everything seemed louder and brighter this morning. The pompous voice of Ernie Macmillan, the royal blue of Cho Chang's Ravenclaw necktie, the molten silver of...of…

Harry's eyes snapped back to the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy sat facing him, a smile on his face. The same smile Harry had seen last night, large and welcoming, his straight white teeth even more dazzling in the early morning brightness of the Great Hall. Harry swallowed and furiously searched the smile for the malice and ill-will he'd come to associate with the blond, and to his disappointment, came up empty handed. Rather than returning Malfoy's smile, he turned himself quite deliberately away from the Slytherin's table, and forced a forkful of cold and rubbery scrambled eggs into his mouth. He did not see the blond's smile falter, or the shadow that passed over his face.

 _ **break**_

Much to Harry's dismay, the day dragged on and on. Every lesson so far had been theoretical, and in very little time his hand was cramping horribly from the copious amount of notes he had taken. Halfway through Transfiguration, he had noticed Malfoy giving him another smile, this one far more tentative than the first. Harry immediately turned to Hermione and said too loudly, "I missed that last bit, give me your notes." Hermione gave him an annoyed glance as everyone looked at Harry, and he felt the heat in his cheeks as he determinedly avoided looking at Malfoy.

The final class of the day was Potions, which Gryffindors unfortunately shared with Slytherins. Harry could feel Malfoy's eyes on him as he chopped his valerian roots with too much vigor, and he was starting to feel angry. Why couldn't Malfoy leave him alone? Malfoy was a slimy snake, he had always been a total arse. Snakes couldn't be trusted…

'Ron and Hermione are right,' Harry thought, for probably the tenth time that day. Malfoy's intentions were far from benevolent, of this Harry was suddenly certain. He glanced over his shoulder, and to his chagrin, met Malfoy's gaze almost instantly. Rather than playing dumb, he held Malfoy's eyes for several seconds, and felt rage bubbling up inside of him when that infuriating smile began to appear. Harry gripped his silver blade and roots tighter, lest he succumb to his desire to rush Malfoy and thrust his head into his cauldron.

After he had submitted a vial of his potion for grading, he gathered his things and made his mind up on a whim. He knocked his jar of dried scarab beetles over, scattering them onto the stone floor. He waved Hermione away when she approached to help.

"I'll catch up with you and Ron in the common room. It's fine," he insisted, and Hermione turned and left the dungeon. Harry watched her go, and waited a few seconds after her departure before rounding on Malfoy, who was packing up his ingredients alone.

"I don't trust you," Harry said bluntly, slightly surprised that Malfoy's open expression didn't even flicker.

"You're not known for your subtlety, did you know that Harry?" Malfoy asked, his tone dry.

"Don't call me Harry. My friends are right, you can't be trusted, and you've got something up your sleeve-"

" _Harry_ ," Malfoy said, with exaggerated emphasis, "you seemed more than fine with our truce last night. Of course your friends don't like me, but I'm not asking them to. I'm asking for a second chance with you. I want you to agree to this on your terms. Don't let them dictate everything you do."

Harry stood there, uncertain. The sudden onslaught of anger at Malfoy was dissipating, little by little. He felt slightly guilty for even considering Malfoy's words. Surely Ron and Hermione had Harry's best interests at heart? But...Perhaps Malfoy was right about one thing. Just because his friends were too set in their ways didn't mean he had to be as well. Harry was tired of the constant discord between himself and Malfoy. Why did he need the others' permission to be mature and take a step in the right direction?

Before Harry could reply, Malfoy cleared his throat and held Harry's gaze when he looked up.

"Meet me in the prefect's bathroom tonight at 9. I'll answer any questions you want to ask me. I'll be waiting."

Harry opened his mouth, but Malfoy quickly made for the door and called out, "Have a good weekend, Professor Snape." Harry gave a start and quickly swept his supplies into his bag, exiting the room at top speed before Snape could take points for dawdling.

The remainder of the afternoon passed by quickly, and Harry tried and failed to focus on his homework. He felt guilty when Ron and Hermione tried to engage him, as he had decided almost immediately after leaving Potions to tell them nothing of his conversation with Malfoy. He was in no mood for more lectures and Ron's anger.

Dinner seemed to end before it had even begun, and Harry was soon making his way to the blasted toad's office. She greeted him with an exceptionally fake smile today, and he settled himself in for what he hoped was his last evening of the cruel and unusual punishment.

His mind kept straying to Malfoy's request. He had decided soon after the talk that he would indeed meet Malfoy, but as the minutes ticked past and blood trickled down his fingers, doubt began to creep in. What if it was a trap? Harry and Malfoy had stumbled upon each other by accident yesterday, but Malfoy had all of today to plan an elaborate scheme with his cronies.

"Mr. Potter," Umbridge's voice broke through his thoughts, and Harry flinched as she took his bloody hand into her fat ones.

"I think the message has...sunk in, don't you? You may leave."

Harry quickly stood and shouldered his bag, taking his leave before Umbridge could decide otherwise. He made his way through the empty halls towards Gryffindor Tower, his hand shoved in his pocket despite the painful friction of the fabric. He had made up his mind.

After crawling through the portrait hole, he made a beeline for his dorm, giving a nod to his friends as they called out to him. He deposited his belongings onto his bed and fished out his Invisibility Cloak and Marauder's Map. After giving a mutter and a tap of his wand to the latter, he perused it until he found the prefect's bathroom. He felt mingled disappointment and eagerness when he spied the dot labeled _Draco Malfoy_ nestled in the room. He was alone.

Stuffing his cloak and wand into his pocket, he descended the stairs and made his way to the corner where Ron and Hermione sat.

"Hey," he said, as they turned to him. "I think I'm gonna go to the prefect's bathroom again. Soak my hand in the murklurp essence, y'know?"

"Harry!" Hermione said happily, turning away from him. "Sit down, I have a surprise for you."

Hesitantly, Harry took the empty armchair beside her as Hermione rummaged by her feet. His hand was stinging like mad and he was growing impatient to interrogate Malfoy.

"Cheer up, mate. It's the weekend!"

He forced a quick grin as Ron looked at him.

"Here you go!" Hermione sat a blue ceramic bowl onto the table before him, and he peered inside to see a pale yellow substance. "I went to the prefect's bathroom while you were in detention and brought you back some mertlap essence."

"Oh." Harry felt annoyance and dismay bloom inside of him. His plan was foiled. "Um, thanks...Hermione. That was nice of you." He hesitantly withdrew his hand and submerged it in the murky liquid, groaning inside as Hermione beamed at him.


	3. Sleep the Light Away

_**I've Got Time and No One Near**_

By **NessaNebula**

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing from Harry Potter, all credit goes to J.K. Rowling.

Hi everybody! Thank you all for the reviews, favorites and follows. It makes me uber happy :)

Please leave your thoughts on this chapter as well!

The songs for this chapter are:

 **Hazey** by **Glass Animals** (I chose this song specifically for the intro scene, from the beginning of the story until first break. I searched hard for the perfect song that would fit the scene, so listen to it, pretty please!)

 **Go Outside** by **Cults**

 **Silver.**

Harry Potter was up to his chin in hot, silky bath water, watching glossy bubbles drift lazily over the pool's surface. The ambient lighting in the steamy room reflected off the bubbles, casting prisms and twinkly lights at Harry. They reminded him of Christmas time; of the baubles and ornaments strewn throughout the castle, of winter sunshine sparkling upon a fresh blanket of snow.

He smiled, sinking lower in the water until the surface became level with his eyeballs. What else was silver? Another pair of eyeballs...oh yes, Draco Malfoy's eyeballs. He gave a shiver despite the warmth of his bath, remembering how the blond's eyes had been as bright as a dagger, and had seemed to cut into him quite the same. He closed his eyes, the luxurious bath lulling him into a comfortably drowsy state.

Through the sleepy fog descending over him, he vaguely wondered what Malfoy thought of his eyes. Everyone he ever met never failed to remark that his eyes were identical to his mother's, but Malfoy did not do that. What would Malfoy say of his eyes? His emerald eyes, as open as a window and always warm, were at such odds with Malfoy's silvery ones. They were sinuous, emotions he could never seem to put his finger on swimming just below the surface. Eyes that could bewitch the mind, ensnare the senses… what?

Harry's wandering thoughts came to a crashing halt as he was doused under a sudden cascade of foamy water. Clasping his hands over his eyes and coughing up bubbles, he hollered, "Goddamn it, Myrtle! I'm going to make you pay for this!"

Harry began to grope around the rim of the pool for his glasses, one hand still covering his eyes and struggling to catch his breath. He grasped the thin frames, and they slipped and slid around his wet fingers as he brought them to his face.

Blinking rapidly, a blurry Draco Malfoy came into focus, and Harry was taken aback at the signature smirk blown wide across his pale face.

"Nope, not Myrtle. This time, it _was_ me." Malfoy looked exceptionally pleased with himself; he was practically glowing.

"Harry," Malfoy sang, slinking towards him. Harry pressed himself flat to the tub wall; what on earth had gotten into Malfoy?

Malfoy halted a foot away from Harry, the abruptness of his stop sending ripples throughout the water. Harry watched them wash up against his chest, then raised his eyes back to Malfoy. The blond's eyes were the brightest he'd seen them yet; they outshone the polished cutlery of the Great Hall, the shimmer of his Invisibility Cloak, the flutter of the Snitch's wings as they caught the sun…

"Why didn't you meet me like I asked?" Malfoy questioned, voice thick with accusation.

"I...Ron and Hermione-"

"Don't need to make _all_ your decisions for you."

"But-"

"But nothing," Malfoy cut him off, and Harry was astonished as Malfoy put a slick, icy finger to his lips. His eyes briefly crossed as he tried to focus on it, and he looked back up when Malfoy chuckled.

"You're a big boy, Harry. _You_ run your life, not them, not anyone. Only you." With that, Malfoy pushed the slender digit past Harry's shocked lips, straight into his mouth.

Harry's eyes widened, and his fingers scrabbled uselessly against the tiled tub wall. Malfoy leaned forward, his hair tickling Harry's cheek and lips hovering over the shell of Harry's ear. Harry could smell expensive cologne rising off the porcelain skin, made twice as potent by the bath water.

"Suck me," Malfoy murmured, his words penetrating the fog encasing Harry's brain. Harry closed his eyes, the subtle command in the blond's voice coercing him into subservience.

Harry wrapped his tongue around the slim appendage, uncertainly stroking the underside with the very tip of his tongue. He knew his actions were immature, inexpert; he had never been intimate with anyone, and he was positive Malfoy could tell. He was about to undertake Malfoy's request with more gusto when he felt the finger slowly being withdrawn from his mouth.

Harry opened his eyes to see Malfoy standing several inches away, his arms at his sides. If he had been glowing before, he was positively radiant now; his skin had an ethereal sheen to it, and his lips were parted as he stared at Harry, who looked back unflinchingly despite his recent behavior.

"Don't leave me hanging again, Harry."

His eyes were so luminous. They left no room for argument.

Harry's mouth was dry. He nodded. Malfoy moved backwards, disappearing into the thick steam, and Harry could feel the possessive touch of his silver eyes lingering as the blond vanished.

 **xXx**

Harry could hear his dormmates moving hurriedly throughout the room, could make out the sun high in the sky through his four-poster's thin hangings. He knew he needed to rise from bed and began preparing for the day, yet he continued to lay there, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, as if he had been struck dumb.

What the _hell_ had he just dreamed about? Not a dream, no...a nightmare, perhaps one terrible enough to rival his ones of Voldemort and the graveyard. What did it mean? As he had never had a dream ( _nightmare_ , his mind corrected) about another person like this, he wasn't quite sure. He wiped the chilled sweat from his forehead and attempted to backtrack.

A good majority of his time yesterday had been consumed by thoughts of Malfoy, albeit angry ones. As Harry had planned to meet Malfoy in the prefect's bathroom, it was only natural that his dream had been comprised of the aforementioned person and setting. Unfortunately, this explanation did not even touch upon what the words exchanged meant...or the touches.

A sharp tap on his bedside window made him start, and he pulled aside his maroon hangings to see an eagle owl clutching a roll of parchment in it's beak. The handsome bird gave a muffled hoot, shifting on the windowsill as it stared at Harry, and he suddenly remembered the bird belonged to Draco Malfoy; he had seen the very same owl delivering gifts to the blond since first year. With a sense of trepidation, Harry heaved the heavy window up and locked it into place. The bird trotted indoors and he took the tightly furled scroll from his beak, giving him a hesitant smile and stroke. He looked back at the roll in his hand; the parchment was creamy and a thin emerald ribbon was wrapped around the middle. Harry climbed back onto his bed and distractedly drew the curtains. After a beat, he pulled on the ribbon and the roll sprang open.

The words that met Harry's eyes were thick, black and looked like calligraphy; they were also blurred to the point of illegibility. Harry thrust his arm through the hangings and groped blindly about his nightstand for his glasses, shoving them onto his face a moment later. The words abruptly sharpened, and he began to read.

 _ **Potter,**_

 _ **I'm writing this in response to your absence last night. I had hoped you would accept the offer, but I'm not terribly surprised you didn't. I admit, inviting you to the prefect's bathroom late on a Friday night was an oversight on my part. I did not think through the strangeness of conversing with your ex-nemesis in such an intimate setting, so if our meeting was foregone for that reason, I apologize.**_

 _ **I know our relationship over the previous 4 years has been tumultuous, and I've treated you and your friends with cruelty. By extending my hand to you for the second time, I take full responsibility for my actions in the past. I am attempting to forge a path for a new friendship between us, unblemished by yesterdays, but I need your help to do this. I want to give you the opportunity to choose a time and place to meet me. Anywhere, anytime, all I ask of you is to come alone. If I do not receive word from you before the weekend is over, I will cease contact with you and you do not have to worry about me attempting to talk to you again.**_

 _ **Draco Malfoy**_

Harry held the letter tightly, his eyes slightly glazed. He had read it three times over, and Malfoy's parting sentence caught him off guard every time. It was abrupt and unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? For Malfoy to bugger off and their relationship to return to snide comments and hexes cast around the corners of corridors? He didn't want strange dreams, or secret meetings in steamy bathrooms, or…

"YOWCH! Get out of here, you bloody lunatic!"

Harry stuffed the letter under his pillow and yanked open his hangings. Ron stood there, sucking his pointer finger and glaring at the eagle owl, who gave a hoot when Harry's face appeared.

"Whose owl is this, Harry? The thing's a menace!"

"Dunno," Harry lied easily, rifling through his trunk for the owl treats he fed Hedwig. He shook a few nuggets into his hand and offered them to the bird, who looked at him shrewdly before scooping them up and flying off.

"You just rewarded the blasted thing for damn near taking my finger off!" Ron said, outraged.

Harry rolled his eyes and returned to his trunk, pulling out black jogger pants and black canvas slip-ons. He debated for a moment between two fleece pullovers, one black and the other emerald; he stuffed the black one back in his trunk before pulling on the newly assembled outfit.

"Fancy a bit of flying after breakfast?" Ron asked, gazing morosely at his slightly mangled finger. "Ginny and Dean wanted to know. Thought it'd be a good idea, since tryouts are next weekend."

"Sure, mate," Harry said, smiling at Ron. A few hours on his broom sounded like just the thing to take his mind off the past two days.

Ron grinned and clapped him on the back, looking more cheerful. "Get a move on, then! Hermione's waiting in the common room."

A few moments later, the trio were making their way to the Great Hall. The halls were deserted, since Harry had dawdled in the dorm for so long. Harry could hear Ron and Hermione chatting animatedly beside him, but he was too distracted to make out their words. They had almost entered the Great Hall when Harry was stopped by a hand on his arm. He looked up into Hermione's brown eyes.

"Harry, you're distant this morning," Hermione said gently.

"I'm fine," Harry said automatically, giving her hand a pat and taking his arm back.

Hermione wasn't to be dissuaded that easily.

"I know it's been a strange week back, but we're always here, Harry. Tell us what's on your mind, we only want to help." Her voice was so genuine, and Harry felt a brief stab of guilt for keeping his interactions with Malfoy from her.

"It's nothing, really. I just feel a bit out of sorts 'cause of this dream I had," Harry said reluctantly. "Have either of you...I dunno...just had a really bizarre dream about someone you don't like?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but Ron snorted loudly and they turned to him.

"What'd you do mate, have a wet dream about Malfoy?" Ron began to laugh uproariously, doubling over and drawing bemused looks from two passing Hufflepuffs.

"RON!" Hermione shrieked, looking scandalized. The _WHACK_ as she thumped him with her

Ancient Runes text resounded through the entry hall, and in the ruckus Harry's fleeting look of guilty shock went unnoticed.

"Good one, Ron," Harry croaked out, grabbing Hermione's arm as she raised her book again. "I'll get you back for that on the pitch!" Harry all but dragged the pair into the Great Hall, keeping his flaming face turned away from them.

 **xXx**

"Mate, you know I was kidding, right?" Ron grabbed Harry's arm as he was making his way out of the locker room. Ron's expression was contrite. "'Mione's right, we're both here for you…you were trying to tell us something, and I had to go and be a total arse-"

"Ron, it's fine," Harry assured him.

When Harry had released Hermione, the book had descended upon a chuckling Ron once more, and after raising a Snitch-sized lump on the back of Ron's head, the subject of Harry's dream had been retired. Hermione had fumed at Ron's lack of tact throughout the whole meal, but once Harry's embarrassment had subsided, he hadn't really cared about the joke.

"Well," Ron said gruffly, giving Harry's arm a quick squeeze, "I do mean it. I am here for you, and if you want to talk, I promise I'll do better to not be a git."

Harry smiled at him, and they grabbed their brooms, joining Dean and Ginny outside the locker room.

 **xXx**

"1,000 points to Gryffindor! Another most spectacular catch by who else but Harry Potter!"

Laughing, Harry joined the other three on the ground, his sweaty hand gripping the Snitch firmly. The three of them had been playing until late afternoon, swapping brooms and positions; Harry had caught the Snitch over half a dozen times to Ginny's single capture. Ron and Dean hadn't managed to catch it once, but Dean was an excellent Chaser.

After rehashing some of the afternoon's highlights, Ron and Dean began to make their way back to the castle, but Ginny hung back as Harry stowed the Snitch and Quaffle away.

"Harry, we haven't really talked since term began," Ginny said, watching him secure the box and spelling it to float in front of them. "Are you doing alright?"

"Yeah, I s'pose," Harry said, "how about you? You and Dean good?"

"Wonderful," Ginny said, giving him a radiant smile. "Really wonderful. And you? You _must_ be holding a torch for one of your admirers?"

They laughed, and unbidden, Harry's dream rose in his mind. He gritted his teeth as, against his will, Malfoy's words echoed in his head.

' _Don't leave me hanging again, Harry…'_

"Harry!"

Harry gave a start as Ginny's voice broke through the spell he was under. He realized the trunk of Quidditch balls had fallen to the ground when he had been distracted. He gave Ginny a sheepish smile.

"Here, I've got it," Ginny said, flicking her wand at the fallen trunk. "You went all weird for a second there. What's on your mind?"

"Ginny," Harry said, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you think it's okay to be friends with someone other people don't approve of?"

Ginny gave him a sidelong glance. "Like a Slytherin?"

"Well...yeah," Harry admitted.

"If you want to know what I think," Ginny said carefully, her eyes back on the trunk, "I think the reason Slytherins are so nasty to the other houses is because it's expected of them. The prejudices against Slytherin House are ancient and passed down through generations. Obviously, there are total arseholes in Slytherin, but there are arseholes in every house. I think if you trust them, then to hell with what people think." She smiled at him.

Harry wanted to ask her more, but knew more specific questions would likely clue Ginny in to just which Slytherin Harry spoke of. He settled for smiling back at her and giving her a one-armed hug.

"Oi! Hurry up, we're starving!"

They looked up to see two distant figures waving their arms at them, and Ginny rolled her eyes, setting the trunk back on the ground and retrieving the Quaffle. A murmured spell later, and the ball was moving at top speed toward Ron's head. They laughed together as the Quaffle bounced against Ron's quickly retreating figure, and Harry felt a bit lighter than he had earlier.

 **xXx**

Dusk was settling in as Draco Malfoy stretched out on his bed, dressed in full Hogwarts uniform bar his robes, despite it being Saturday night. He languidly fingered the silver serpent brooch fastened to his emerald tie, mind blank but alert.

"Draco," the deep voice of Blaise Zabini called, coming into view as Draco pulled back his bed hangings. "You had an owl earlier."

He handed him a roll of parchment and turned to leave. Draco waited until the last echoes of Blaise's footsteps died away, then tapped the scroll with his wand.

It sprang open. Draco thought the parchment was blank until he spotted a couple lines of cramped, untidy scrawl near the bottom:

 _ **7:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. Meet me in the left corridor on the 7th floor.**_

After a brief pause, Draco tapped the parchment with his wand, watching as it burst into flame, his face impassive but eyes gleaming brightest silver.


	4. Dawn

_**I've Got Time and No One Near**_

By NessaNebula

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Harry Potter, all credit goes to J.K. Rowling.

Hey everyone! I'm sorry it's been so long since an update. Every time I tried to write, I kept hitting a brick wall and it was uber frustrating. This chapter is shorter than the other ones, thanks to the writer's block, but I may keep the chapters this length from now on. Please leave your thoughts on it, I love reviews!

The song for this chapter is:

 **Ride** by **TV on the Radio** (one of my favorite bands ever. I think this song is a great match.)

 **Dawn.**

The first rays of feeble sunlight were rising over the distant mountains, causing the grounds of Hogwarts to shimmer as it touched the dewy grass. The grounds were deserted except for two tall boys reclining against a towering oak tree, one pale as the early morning sunlight and the other dark as twilight. The dark boy had a sketchbook propped against his knees and was observing his work with a pencil between his teeth.

"Blaise," the pale boy drawled, "I think I'll pierce my tongue over the winter holidays. What do you think?"

"Why, Draco?" Blaise said distantly, his eyes still riveted on his art.

"Don't the girls go wild for that shit? I mean, I've always been a sex god, but a little extra charm never hurt." Draco raised his chin and glanced discreetly at Blaise, who did not appear to have heard a word he said.

"Hey!"

"Draco, stop being so nervous. It's not like you," Blaise murmured, deftly plucking the pencil from his mouth and swiping it downwards on the paper.

Draco glared at the boy as he stood and brushed blades of grass from his pants. They had situated themselves several feet away from the edge of the lake, and the lack of tension in the water's surface beckoned him closer. He knew his best friend was right; if the quickly rising sun was anything to go by, he would be meeting Harry Potter very soon, and his composure was slipping to some degree. He glanced briefly at Blaise, still absorbed in his work, then back at the water. His reflection peered up at him, eyes not quite as alert as he would have liked, and the beginnings of dark purple shadows underneath them.

' _Shouldn't even bother covering them up_ ,' he thought gloomily. ' _Don't the girls find vampires dashing as well_?'

He stood there for several moments, lost in thought about the pros and cons of vampirism, before he heard Blaise calling. He returned to the boy's side and settled himself once more upon the damp grass.

"You're a good person, Draco," Blaise said softly, his dark eyes focused on the blond, who grunted in response.

"I don't know if I can do this...if I should do this."

"You're a good person," Blaise repeated. "Everyone knows you've made a complete arse of yourself the past four years, but change is always possible-"

"Fuck you!" Draco snapped, but couldn't help joining in his friend's laughter. Blaise returned to his sketch, and Draco rested his head on the boy's shoulder, watching him draw for several moments.

"You love her, don't you?" Draco murmured, his eyes roving over the masterpiece Blaise had created; it was a portrait of a girl, her face framed by flowing locks, her eyes possessing a depth that was slightly unsettling. Blaise paused.

"I've loved her since I first laid eyes on her."

There was so much conviction in his voice that Draco didn't attempt to make a joke. He watched Blaise return the pencil to paper and begin adding shadows to her cheeks.

"You're too soft to be a Slytherin," Draco said without acrimony.

Blaise ignored him but shrugged the blond's head off his shoulder.

Draco fixed his gaze on his long, pale fingers for a moment, but knew he was stalling. He shook back his sleeve and glanced at his watch: 6:54 a.m. He stood abruptly.

"I need to go and meet Potter now."

The dark teenager looked at him in concern, but nodded.

"Save me a spot at breakfast, yeah?" Draco didn't wait for a response; he turned on his heel and set off towards the castle, taking deep breaths and recreating the cool Malfoy exterior piece by piece.

 **xXx**

Harry had been leaning against the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, slightly dozing, when he heard distant footsteps approaching. He jerked upright, alert and tense, as a tall figure appeared at the end of the corridor. He tried to keep his face smooth and impassive despite his rapidly ascending heartbeat.

Draco Malfoy halted several feet away from Harry, hands in his pocket. He was wearing a black velvet tracksuit and a rather wary expression.

"Hi," Harry ventured, chewing his bottom lip and moving his eyes over Malfoy's face.

"Hello, Potter."

"I thought I'd graduated to Harry," Harry murmured, feeling a bit nervous with Malfoy's intense stare upon him.

"You had, until you stood me up." Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

They alternated between looking at each other and the walls and ceiling for a moment, before Harry pushed off the tapestry and moved towards the opposite wall.

"Right, well," he muttered, "have you ever heard of the Room of Requirement?"

"No."

"Well," Harry began, "It's this room, that transforms itself into absolutely anything you can think of. Whatever you want or need, the room becomes it." As he spoke, he paced back and forth in front of the blank stretch of stone, and looked at Malfoy as he heard the door forming. Malfoy's eyes widened slightly, and they darted between Harry and the door behind him.

"I'm intrigued. How did you find this place?"

"People talk." Harry grinned.

"Yes, people talk, and the Golden Boy will always be around to eavesdrop on them," Malfoy said drily. He moved towards the door and grasped the handle, pulling it open and gesturing Harry in ahead of him.

As the door swung shut with a soft _click_ , Malfoy looked around the large room. There were several sofas, all of different sizes and materials, bookshelves, coffee tables laden with games such as chess and Gobstones, and a roaring fireplace. He watched Harry take a seat at a faded maroon sofa by the fire, pulling a gold quilt over his legs. He looked around again; everything was Gryffindor House colors. Typical.

"Did you ask the room to make me as uncomfortable as possible?" Draco asked, taking a seat in an armchair across from Harry.

Harry furrowed his brow. "Sorry?"

"The colors, Potter. Don't be naive."

Harry grinned, bringing his leg beneath him and leaning towards the table. "Tea?"

A tarnished tea set had appeared, and Draco gazed at the bookshelves as Harry prepared two steaming cups of drink.

"Here you go." Harry pushed a saucer towards him, interrupting his musings.

"Thanks, Pott-" Draco broke off as he glanced at his beverage. His teacup was resting on an emerald doily with silver trim. He glared at Harry.

"I put extra sugar, I hope you don't mind," Harry said innocently. "You seem rather bitter this morning."

"Are you always this cheeky?" Draco asked, blowing gently on the tea and taking a sip. It was much too sweet, but he managed to keep a simple face.

"Only in awkward situations with my ex-nemesis," Harry quipped, and Draco noticed his face redden in the glow of the fire.

Draco leaned forward and gently placed the abysmal tea upon the tabletop, then caught Harry's eye. "Harry, you shook my hand and agreed to help me put all of this behind us. You don't want to stay enemies, do you?"

Harry held his gaze, but seemed to burrow under the quilt even further. Draco noted with amusement how childlike Harry was.

"No, no I don't," Harry said finally, pulling his lower lip between his teeth once more. He stared at the fire for a moment, then turned back to Draco.

"Why do you want to be my friend?"

"I already told you-"

"Yeah, I know we should grow up, put the animosity to rest, all that; but we can do that without becoming friends. You know that."

Malfoy looked slightly uncomfortable. He picked up his tea and took a sip, unable to help his grimace.

"Harry...well, I offered you my hand in first year. I may have been a prat, but I still wanted your friendship. That hasn't really changed." Draco stared into his cold tea, feeling rather hot around the collar, before he looked up to meet Harry's grinning face.

"Okay. We're friends."

"That's all?" Draco said incredulously. "You just wanted me to embarrass myself. Sod off, Potter!"

"Surely you call your friends by their first names, Draco? Oh wait… You did always refer to those two goons by their surnames."

"Crabbe and Goyle aren't my friends anymore," Draco replied evenly. "I spend the majority of my time with Blaise now."

"Why aren't they your friends?" Harry asked, curiosity piqued.

"Pott-Harry, the whole school knows they're practically squibs. I'm trying to turn over a new leaf, and from what I've observed, most people do not have lackeys."

"I see," Harry said. "I can't imagine how lost they are without their fearless leader."

"They'll manage," Draco said indifferently. "There was something I was meaning to ask you."

"Alright."

Draco toyed with the lacy doily as he asked, "Do you want private tutoring with Potions? Everyone knows you're...well, not exactly top of the class. It's O.W.L year and you could probably use it…" He trailed off, his gaze everywhere but Harry.

Harry was stunned, but recovered quickly. "That's really generous of you, Draco. I mean, extra potions lessons aren't exactly how I want to spend my free time, but I probably shouldn't pass it up."

Draco looked at Harry for a moment, then gave him a fleeting smile. In his nervousness, he had shredded the thin doily to bits, but he wasn't concerned.

"We can meet here, if you want. I'm sure the room could create a potions lab with no problem," Harry offered.

"Yeah, sure," Draco said, then flashed Harry his signature smirk.

"Although, could you spruce up the decor a bit next time? These colors are utter _bollocks._ "


End file.
